


Ghost

by ArianneMaya



Series: Aftermath [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He doesn't know if they found him or if he found them. He thinks it might be a little bit of both. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

He doesn't know if they found him or if he found them. He thinks it might be a little bit of both. 

He wasn't looking for them. After the Smithsonian, after spending two days reading every history book he could get his hands on and realizing that while they could tell him everything about who James Buchanan Barnes was before he fell, they would not help him figuring out who he is now, he headed for New York. 

Brooklyn changed so much that there's nothing for him to recognize, not even the descriptions he found in the history books. Soon, he realizes that the city is too big for him. There's too much noise, too much light, too many people, and he has more bad days than good ones. 

On good days, he can read and think clearly and remember things he shouldn't, like the fact that in every HYDRA's safe house, there is money hidden, enough so that his handlers could use it to get him where he was meant to be if things went wrong. Once he remembered that, it was easy to find a safe house that hadn't been used in forever, sweep it for bugs and, when he was sure no-one would notice, take a backpack, enough food to last him a couple of days, a bottle of water that he can refill, and all the money he could find. 

He remembers nothing of the bad days. They bring him more nightmares, waking him up in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat and more than once with bloody hands. 

He hopes that he didn't kill anyone, but he doesn't know. 

He has a list of places that he hopes might trigger memories, something for him to hold onto beyond the mess left in his head after his last encounter with Steve. After Brooklyn, his next stop is the old army base where he did his basic training during the war. 

The army base doesn't exist anymore. In its place, there's a HYDRA base. 

Once he figures that out, the logical next step would be to move again. If he stays here, he might easily get caught. He isn't yet at the point where he thinks he's allowed to have desires of his own, but he knows one thing for sure: he'd rather die than go back to being HYDRA's weapon. 

He should be already gone, putting as many miles between himself and HYDRA as he can, yet he stays. He isn't sure why. The same anger that took hold of him in the Smithsonian has returned, and with it, the idea that his life was stolen from him. 

He wants to do something, but he's just one man. As tempting as it is to give in to the Winter Soldier's instincts, he's scared that if he does that, he'll lose himself and will never find his way back. 

He hesitates for so many days that he's still there when Steve arrives. 

At first he thinks that Steve is there for him, but no, it doesn't seem so. Or maybe Steve and the man with the wings – someone fixed them for him, they look brand new even though he remembers tearing them off the man's back – were hoping to find him and found HYDRA instead. 

Either way, the result is the same. Steve and his new friend obviously have the intention of taking on HYDRA and whoever's in the place today all on their own. He shakes his head, a familiar feeling pushing away all hesitations because Steve is, once again, about to take on something that's way too big for him and, damn it, is the little punk _ever_ going to learn?

It's familiar and easy, so easy it should be scary but it isn't, a programming that precludes everything the Winter Soldier ever was, real and raw and so important that nothing else exists for him. 

He doesn't even think. He doesn't need to. He follows them, silent, unseen, easily finds himself a perch where he can see everything, readies his rifle. This, he knows. And the thought from before is back, _I knew him_ , but there's no fear left, only a quiet certainty. 

This is who he is, what he was meant to do. Protect Steve, always watch his back. It makes no difference if watching his back means pulling him out of a fight that his ninety-pound body has no hope of winning, watching over him when Steve is sick and doing things he isn't proud of in order to get the damn medicines Steve needs in order to heal, or stand in his shadow with a rifle. This is his life. 

He watches, taking in every detail, but Steve doesn't need him, none of the men he's fighting are any kind of match for Captain America. And then he hears Steve's nervous cry of, “ _Sam_!”

It barely takes him a minute to switch his focus, to see the man with the wings – Sam – about to be taken down by one of HYDRA's guys. The next thing he knows, said guy has a bullet in his head and he barely realizes that he's the one who shot him. 

He doesn't know if it was the same instinct that once extended his _protect Steve at all cost_ habit to all the Commandos or if it was the anguish in Steve's voice that spurred him on, but he doesn't have time to wonder. Sam pushes the dead man off him, and he and Steve both look up. 

He catches himself right before he raises his arm in an awkward wave. He knows, somewhere deep in his bones, that this is what Bucky would have done, reassuring Steve that he was okay, too, but he isn't Bucky. He can't be. 

So he hides, well enough that when Steve comes looking for him, he doesn't find him, well enough for Steve to think that he's already gone. 

He doesn't run away, though. He's aware that it would be, just as when the base was swarming with HYDRA's agents, the smart thing to do, but he can't. 

Instead, he follows Steve and Sam to wherever they're staying. It isn't easy; between the explosion they set up and the fact that Sam flies them out of there from the roof, their trail is almost nonexistent. But for someone who knows what to look for – and he has a lifetime worth of training – it can be found. 

By the time he catches up to them, Sam is pulling Steve toward the house. He feels better when he can confirm that neither of them is injured. They do look a little out of breath but he doesn't wonder why. He stays out of sight until they disappear into the house. 

He stays around and watches over them. It's almost like he can't go, drawn as he is by Steve like a moth to a flame, but he doesn't dare try and get any closer. 

It's tempting. He knows he won't be able to survive forever on his own. Between the bad days that he still remembers nothing of and the memories that appear out of nowhere and hurt more than anything else, he's always on the brink, holding himself right before he falls into the abyss of his own mind. 

HYDRA didn't design him to survive on his own. They always made sure that he was depending on his handlers for almost everything, even though he's learned some things over the years. Lucky for him, his handlers always seemed to think that since he didn't speak and only acted when he was told to, he couldn't think, couldn't understand any of the things that were said around. He forgot a lot of things every time they put him back into cryo, but the mind wipes were always so specific that some things stuck, especially the things he heard over and over again, mission after mission. 

He was able to find himself food before leaving Washington, but just the thought of the human interaction that would be necessary in order to acquire more leaves him petrified. His metal arm is malfunctioning; he's done the little repairs he could, but he'd need someone who actually knows what they're doing. 

And, if he was Bucky, he knows he could walk through that door and ask for the help he needs, and that it would be granted to him. But he isn't. He's still caught somewhere between the man Bucky was and the perfect weapon HYDRA created with the Winter Soldier and he's scared shitless that, if he gets too close to Steve, the Winter Soldier programming will take over, and the voice in his head that keeps telling him that he failed, that he has to complete his mission, will win. 

So he watches Steve and Sam, the easy way they are together and the relationship they're slowly building. It breaks his heart that he can't share a little bit of that light, of that love. 

In another life, he thinks, he would be there, teasing the hell out of Steve, sharing movie nights and bad jokes. 

If he hadn't fallen. Maybe. But there's no use hoping for the impossible. 

He takes all he can get, which is almost nothing, tendrils of something so much bigger, something Steve never had any idea he was giving out but it's still there. Like Steve is the sun, and it feels so good to bask in his light, but he knows if he gets too close he'll burn. 

But he can't make himself leave. Not when being this close to Steve seems to clear the fog in his mind, just the tiniest bit, just enough that he wants to stay right where he is. 

The night Agent Romanoff arrives, he stays closer to the house, close enough that he can listen through an open window. He's very, very careful, making sure that none of them can notice him. He's surprised by what he hears, the fierce determination Steve has in his quest to find him. 

He hears, even though Steve doesn't say it, how much it hurt Steve when he'd disappeared again, just when Steve thought he might find him. 

He could fix that easily. He's right here, after all. But he doesn't. Steve's faith in him makes him stronger, but he needs to put the broken pieces of himself together before he can accept Steve's friendship. He needs to be sure he isn't endangering Steve just by being around him. 

The next morning, Agent Romanoff walks out of the house alone. Right before she gets into her car, she looks around. He tenses, ready for a fight, but she doesn't seem to notice him. 

He, however, gets a good enough look at her face for it to trigger the memory of a little girl, maybe eight years old, with bright red hair and a knack for survival. 

***

The girl ends up sprawled on the mat. Where most of the other kids would have been whimpering like injured animals, she's tense as a wire, ready to jump at the slightest sign of weakness. He doesn't give her any. 

“Up,” he orders. 

She pulls herself to her feet. Purple bruises mottle her skin, but she's standing strong, death written in her glare. 

“Again.” 

She's getting better. Not once has she begged for her life. Every time, she lasts a little longer, even though he barely pulls his punches. 

His mission parameters are clear: no death, no lasting injuries, no scars, but when he's done, the kids who make it through training have to know how to take down a grown man, at least twice their size. 

Anything else they need, the Red Room will teach them. He's only there so they learn how to fight and kill. 

***

Her name, her real name, hits him so hard that he feels sick. 

_Natalia._

He tries to hold onto the memory but it's already fading. Another ripple in the pond of his mind, gone like water slipping through his fingers before he can understand it. He feels the beginning of a headache, as if HYDRA was pulling on his leash, even though the whole organization is now in tatters. 

They'll find him. They always find him. 

And if they find him here... they'll find Steve as well. He can't let that happen. 

So he does the only thing he can to prevent that: he runs.


End file.
